Precious
by drummergrl1310
Summary: This is a short story, written for my friend Hannah (aka Good Golly Miss Moxley). A sweet homecoming between two stubborn lovers who shouldn't be. I hope you enjoy. Please review and let me know how I could make it better.
1. Part 1

Hannah laid in her room, alone on the bed. The house was eerily quiet, each creak as it settled, normally a whisper, now a screech in the silence. Her grandparents and the kids were gone on a rare weekend getaway, and while she thought she would have enjoyed the solitude and peace and quiet, the empty house and its stupid sounds were just pissing her off. She should have been with her family, but no, her dumb ass had once again tripped over nothing, this time earning a giant knot on her thigh. She could barely hobble around the house, let alone go camping. Not that the great outdoors was really her cup of tea anyway. Still, she missed her family, loud and crazy as they were. Without them there was very little to distract her from the pain coursing through her leg.

As she was contemplating just how long she could stay like this before going insane, the doorbell rang. With a sigh, Hannah struggled to her feet, limping toward the front door. Each step sent a jolt of pain through her thigh, and by time she got to the door she was cursing her uninvited visitor fiercely.

"Motherfucker," she mumbled under her breath as she yanked the door open, glaring at whoever was unlucky enough to be standing on the other side.

"Nice to see you too, Precious," the disheveled man drawled through a puff of cigarette smoke.

Hannah just stood there, staring. It had been several months since she'd seen Dean. When they'd parted last, she didn't know if she'd see him again. They'd agreed that a relationship between them, with him being on the road, wasn't logical. It hurt, but it was true. Hannah had accepted it, and she'd moved on. Or, she'd tried to move on. She watched him on tv every week, she missed him, she ached for him. But she didn't cry for him. She didn't cry for anyone. Fuck that, no one was worth her tears.

Yet here Dean stood in front of her, and damnit if tears weren't welling up in her eyes. She hadn't realized just how deeply she'd missed him.

Dean ground his cigarette out with his boot and swept Hannah up into a tight embrace. "I've missed you, Han," he mumbled into her hair.

Hannah wound her hands into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. "I've missed you too."

They stood that way for several minutes, soaking each other in, remembering sounds, and smells, and body rhythms. When they finally broke apart, Dean planted a soft kiss on Hannah's lips.

"How long are you in town," she asked.

"Two nights."

"Stay with me." She hated how much it sounded like a plea, but she couldn't help it. She needed to be with him, needed him to refill her aura.

"Where's your family?"

"Away for the weekend. You'll be safe from random bed invaders in the middle of the night."

Dean's brilliant blue eyes darkened a shade. "What if I want my bed invaded?"

Hannah smirked. It was nice to know that as much as she needed him, he needed her as well. "That can be arranged."

"Well then lead the way, my lady."


	2. Part 2

As Dean followed Hannah inside, he noticed her limping significantly. He dropped his bags in the doorway and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.

"What's with the limp, Gimpy?"

Hannah sighed. "Tripped over a toy, fell down the stairs, now I have a knot on my thigh. Just my usual shit."

Dean turned her around to face him. "Let me see."

Hannah rolled her eyes, but pulled up the leg of her lounge pants to reveal the injury.

"Holy shit, Han. That is not ok." Dean knelt down to look closer. "Have you been to the doctor?"

"Yeah. He said it's just going to take time to heal."

Dean kissed her thigh gently, pulling the pant leg down as he stood up. "Go sit down in the living room. I'll get you an ice pack and some Motrin."

Hannah protested. "I don't need you take care of me. I've been doing a fine job my entire life."

Dean pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I know you don't need me to take care of you, Precious. But I'm asking you to let me."

Those damn tears were back again. What the hell? "Fine. I guess. Whatever," Hannah replied gruffly.

Dean smiled, one of his rare, dimple-smiles. "Good. Go. Sit." He kissed her on the forehead, then headed off to the kitchen.

Hannah settled into the couch and soon heard pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Was it really that hard to find an ice pack and some pain medicine? Good grief. Just as she was getting ready to go help Dean out, a pleasant aroma began to waft into the living room. Was he cooking? Really?

Soon Dean appeared, carrying a tray that contained two bowls of macaroni and cheese, two bottles of water, an ice back, and several Motrin.

"I cooked for you," he said proudly.

She laughed. "I can see that. Macaroni and cheese. You really went all out!"

Dean pointed to one of the bowls. "With hot dog franks."

"Ah. Impressive."

Hannah spooned a bite of the gooey pasta into her mouth.

"Well?" Dean asked.

"Very tasty," she replied. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome. The secret is adding a couple slices of cheese to the boxed mix, then cutting up the hot dogs and letting then cook with the pasta." He waved his spoon in the air. "You can't cut corners."

Hannah laughed. It felt so good to have him here. The air always felt a little lighter with Dean around, a little easier to breathe, a little less pressure on her shoulders.


	3. Part 3

_A/N: Thank you to Moxie Steele and lilasskickersmom for the reviews, favorites, and follows ;-)_

They finished their dinner in companionable silence and Dean cleared the dishes away. When he came back, he was carrying two dishes of strawberry ice cream.

"This needed to be liberated from your freezer," he said.

"Oh is that so," Hannah laughed, taking one of the dishes from him.

"It is," Dean replied, watching Hannah lick some of the soft pink treat off the spoon.

She caught him staring and questioned him. "What?"

"I forgot how beautiful you are."

His blunt answer caught Hannah off guard. "Oh."

She stared at her dish and quickly spooned another bite into her mouth. In an instant the couch shifted, her dish was gone, and Dean's lips were pressed against hers, his tongue seeking entrance. She yielded immediately, sighing into his kiss. This. This moment. It was all she'd been dreaming of for months. It was all she'd dreamt of, but been too afraid to actually hope for. Dean had come back for her. And he might not come back again. But he was here now, and in this moment he was hers.

Hannah tangled her hands into his hair, trying to pull him closer. She lifted herself into him, forgetting about her injury, and was rewarded with a stabbing pain in her thigh.

"OUCH! Fuck."

Dean immediately pulled back. "What? Are you ok?"

Hannah ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Yeah, it's just my fucking leg."

Dean let out a pent-up sigh, then smiled softly. "Ok. We'll deal with it. Let's move this to your bed, so we have more room to work."

He grabbed Hannah's hand to help her off the couch, then picked her up under the legs and headed toward her bedroom.

"I can walk," she pointed out.

Dean stared down at her, exasperated, "Could you let it go, for one night?"

Hannah's face softened, "Yeah, ok. I'll try."

He kissed her forehead before laying her down gently on the bed. He looked her over, top to bottom, then shook his head. "This won't do. You're wearing way too many clothes."

Dean straddled her waist and slid his hands under her shirt, pulling the hem up, skirting his palms up her sides, fingers tickling sensitive skin as he went. Up and over her head, then off to the corner the shirt went. Fingers trailed back down her arms, tickling over collar bones and breasts. Dean's light blue eyes began to turn stormy and glaze over. Hannah watched quietly. Sometimes he went inside his own head during sex, lost in world of a lust, but he always took her with him, so she let him drift off, and moaned quietly as those talented fingers quickly rid her of her bra and began playing with her nipples. He rolled them, pinched them, licked them, caressed the soft globes that surrounded them as if they were priceless treasures. Then suddenly, he was back, blue eyes clear again. Dean leaned down to kiss Hannah, his tongue dancing with hers, then shifted his body lower to finish ridding her of the offending clothing.

Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants, pulling them down slowly, trailing small kisses down her belly as he went. When he got just below her belly button, Dean looked up at Hannah with a raised eyebrow.

"Commando?"

Hannah shrugged. "It's too hot for that shit."

A devious grin spread across Dean's face. "Naughty girl." With that he pulled her pants the rest of the way off and threw them somewhere across the room. He knelt at the bottom of the bed, staring at her body, taking her in from head to toe, lust playing across his face, mixed with tenderness when he took in the angry knot on her thigh. He sat like that for what felt like ages, starting to get lost again, deciding what to do first.

"Stop." Hannah's quite voice pulled him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Stop looking at me like that. It makes me uncomfortable. If I looked like a Diva it'd be fine, but I don't, so just fuck me already."

Most of the time Hannah was fine with her body, but this man was too perfect, an Adonis, and she couldn't bear for him to stare at her flaws. She needed him on top of her, inside her, where she knew he wouldn't be thinking about extra tummy padding or a stray batch of cellulite.

Dean continued to stare, but this time it was directly into her eyes. Well, now, this was even more uncomfortable, wasn't it? Hannah refused to look away though. Refused to give him the satisfaction. He was a stubborn bastard, but so was she. Slowly he crawled up her body, never breaking eye contact. He lowered himself down above her until his body was flush with hers, his weight supported by his arms, his lips right above hers, his eyes boring into her hers.

"Why," Dean began, "would I want to fuck a self-absorbed, conniving, been-around-the-block, spray-tanned, bleach-blonde, spackled, plastic Barbie, when I could fuck you?"

Hannah stared back, unsure what to say.

"Have you ever fucked a plastic Barbie, Hannah," Dean continued. "It's unpleasant."

The corners of his mouth began to turn up until finally his dimples showed. He nuzzled his face into her neck and whispered into her ear, "If you bring it up again, I might have to punish you."

With that he crushed him mouth to hers, done with pleasantries, done with teasing, ready to get down to business. Hannah wrapped her arms and legs around him, trying to get as close as possible to him. Instead of being met with glorious skin however, she was met with cotton and denim. With a frustrated groan she began tearing at his clothes, trying to get both his shirt and his jeans off at once. Dean laughed, batting her hands away.

"Impatient," he asked, as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Hannah glared at him as he got off the bed and began undoing his jeans. 5 minutes ago, she'd been fine, completely in control of herself. Now, she was ready to devour him, and she was more than willing to tear him to shreds in order to do it.

Dean saw the look in her eyes as he slid his pants and boxers down his legs, knew she was coming unglued. He smirked at her.

"Nuh-uh, Precious. You might as well relax. It's been 3 fucking months. 3 months to think about everything I was going to do to you, how I was going to do it, where I was going to do it. You're not ruining that for me just because you can't fucking control yourself."

Dean crawled on top of Hannah, careful not to hurt her injured leg, and quickly pinned her arms above her head. He leaned down and breathed in her scent, relishing having his woman underneath him again. He ran his tongue in a long line across her jaw line up to her ear, then whispered softly, "So lay back, relax, and fucking enjoy yourself. If I need to tie you down I will, but you know I prefer to have your scatchmarks."

He leaned up enough to look into Hannah's eyes, to see if she understood. He saw longing, desire, long-held pain. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose, both her eyelids, both corners of her lips. "I'll give you what you need. I always do. Right?" The butterfly kisses continued across her face, down her neck, until she relented and nodded. Fighting would no good anyhow, Dean always got his way. And he was right, he always gave her what she needed.


	4. Part 4

_A/N Thank you to wwefanatic1991, hrodenhaver, and anyone I missed for the reviews, follows, and favorites!_

With Hannah pliant underneath him, Dean sat up and ran his graceful hands down her body, inhaling deeply, trying to soak her essence into his being. She was beautiful. Large natural breasts, soft belly, curvy hips, thick thighs, strong calves, milky skin. The way a woman should be.

He tried to decide where to begin. So many things he wanted to do to her, so many things he wanted her to do to him. Her body was a siren song though, and it called him to her. Dean leaned down and began covering her belly in soft kisses, caressing the flesh tenderly. Soon the kisses turned into nibbles, which quickly turned into bites. Hannah moaned as Dean's teeth bit into her tender flesh. He worked his way lower down her body, over her hips and down her thighs, leaving his marks on her. The flesh would be purple tomorrow, but in this moment neither of them cared. Hannah knew if she caught a glimpse of his eyes, they would be stormy, Dean having slipped away to his private place. His nails raked down her legs from her hips down the outside of her thighs, causing her to cry out, which shook him from his trance.

Hannah glanced down in time to see Dean's blue eyes swirl from stormy grey to clear blue. He met her eyes, holding them as he spread her legs and crawled up to lay between them. He'd been wasting time, letting her suffer in need much too long. He slid a finger along her folds, gathering her moister, pressing against her entrance, feeling her wetness. Putting the finger to his mouth, Dean sucked the juices off, reveling in Hannah's taste, a flood of memories crashing back upon him. The storm returned, and his head dove between her thighs, licking her bottom to top, swirling around her clit, then back down to the point her nectar collected. Wrapping his arms around her legs, he pulled Hannah closer to him, burying his face in her pussy, his nose tickling her clit, drowning in her scent, getting drunk off of what she gave him. He could stay here forever, tasting, devouring. His head fogged, the storm raged. Distantly he heard Hannah's moans, but he was lost in sensation, in her.

A sharp tug on his hair reminded him where he was, what he was doing. Refocused, the storm retreated and Dean slowed himself down. This wasn't about him right now. It was about her. His Hannah. His Precious. Spreading her lower lips, his tongue delved inside her, in and out, lapping, claiming, while his thumb drew lazy circles on her clit. Hannah's hands in his hair pulled his head upward, so he licked up to the hard nub at her apex, sucking it into his mouth. Deftly one finger entered her, two, three, curling toward himself, finding her sweet spot. He fought to keep the storm at bay, to stay focused. Right now wasn't the time to float away.

Hannah had forgotten the talents of Dean's mouth, of his fingers. She tried to hold herself together, tried to prolong the sweet torture. She didn't want to come yet, wanted to keep this going as long as possible. The wait had been too long to let go so quickly. One glance down though, one meeting of his eyes, and she was gone, crashing over the edge. Tugging his head further into her, Hannah cried out, riding the wave of her orgasm, seeing the stars dance behind her eyes.

Dean watched as Hannah lost herself, felt a surge of lust and pride knowing he'd caused it, felt his cock harden further with his own need. He continued to lick her until she pushed his head away, too tender to take any more. Sitting back on his heels, Dean popped on finger into his mouth and licked it clean then another. The third he saved for Hannah.

Leaning forward he placed the digit at her lips. "Taste yourself," he commanded.

Hannah blinked lazily at Dean, still coming down off her high. Finally she parted her lips and darted her tongue out to taste what he offered. Sitting up a little she smiled, taking the finger into her mouth, sucking it all the way in. As Dean tried to pull it away, Hannah grabbed his wrist and held his hand firmly in place, meeting his eyes, swirling her tongue around his finger, mimicking things to come. The storm clouds drifted into his baby blues again and a low growl rumbled through the room. Before she could protest, Hannah's hands were above her head and Dean's face hovered inches from her own. One hand held her wrists on place, while the other tenderly stroked the side of her face.

"Do I need to tie you down, or can you behave?"

Hannah stared into the now storm-grey eyes, debating. Could she control herself? She didn't mind the binds every now and then, being his to use as he saw fit, but right now she needed every inch of her skin touching him. Hell, if she could have found a way, she would have crawled inside him.

Green eyes stared innocently up at Dean. "I'll be good."

"I don't need you to be good," Dean chuckled. "I just need you to remember who's in control."


	5. Part 5

_A/N: Thank you to Magdelena Sforza and amber-gem for the follow and favorites!_

Dean couldn't take any more, had to have part of himself inside Hannah. He crawled up her body and straddled her chest, his cock inches from her plump lips. Hannah stared calmly into his eyes, a small smirk playing across her face. If he wanted something from her, he was damn well going to have to tell her. After all, she wasn't the one in control of this little game right now.

Rubbing himself across her lips, Dean requested, "Open."

Hannah raised an eyebrow, smirk still in place.

"Now." The demand was much firmer this time and Dean reached down and squeezed Hannah's mouth until her lips parted on their own. Shoving himself in, he momentarily lost control, immediately hitting the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Dean pulled back, glanced into Hannah's eyes and saw she was right there with him, and so no apologies were necessary.

"Suck." And she did, letting him set the pace, thrusting into her mouth, taking what he gave her. After awhile her neck began to cramp though, and she pushed back against his tummy.

"What's wrong," Dean demanded, eyes glazed over, sweat beading over his face.

"Sit back."

He smiled, switching positions with her, leaning back against the headboard and helping her find a comfortable position between his thighs. Her own thigh twinged a little, but she didn't care. All that mattered to her right now was pleasing this beautiful bastard, and if that required a little bit of pain, which it usually did with him anyway, then fuck it. She could deal with that.

Lowering herself to his groin, Hannah ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling the veins and soft velvety skin. She sucked the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, before bobbing all the way down, taking him fully in.

"Fuck," Dean groaned above her, snapping something inside Hannah. She felt deliciously wanton. She wanted to be his slut, wanted to make him feel dirty and alive, and most of all, wanted to make him feel satisfied. Bracing her arms on either side of Dean's hips, she sucked him down as deep and hard as she could, not caring how sloppy it was, not caring that the muscles in her mouth and throat were beginning to burn.

Pulling up for a moment, Hannah met Dean's eyes, could tell he was struggling to keep the storm at bay. She was desperate, now, willing to beg for what she needed.

"Fuck my mouth. Please baby, I need to taste you."

The storm broke and Dean obliged. He shoved her mouth back over his cock, thrusting deeply into her throat. Hannah sucked as much as she could, struggling to breath, lost in lust as she watched Dean's eyes as he abused her mouth to get himself off. He climaxed quickly, filling her mouth with more than she could swallow. When he finished, Hannah lovingly cleaned him of the mess they'd made before he pulled her up into a deep kiss, tasting himself on her tongue.

Dean's crystal blue eyes gazed into Hannah's, seeing hers still clouded over in lust. He pulled her further up his body until she was straddling his face, her body dripping up above him. Pulling her down, his tongue invaded her, making quick work of what little control she had left. Hannah grabbed the headboard for support, crying out as her orgasm drenched Dean's face in her juices. He lapped at her folds, holding her steady as she trembled. Finally she began to collapse, and he helped her gently down the bed until she was laying by his side, injured thigh resting gently over his. He stroked her hair tenderly as she came down from her high, letting her catch her breath before he continued on with all he had planned for her.


	6. Part 6 (The End)

_A/N: This is the final part of the story. Thank you all for reading! Please review if you haven't already!_

Dean gazed down Hannah's body as she lay curled against him. The bruises and bite marks he'd inflicted were already starting to show on her pale skin. He felt his cock begin to stir at this. Not because he'd hurt her – Dean would do anything to keep pain away from her– but because he'd marked her. Hannah was his, and now she had the marks all over her body to prove it. His gaze fell upon his own body, marked with Hannah's scratches – she'd marked him as well. Dean smiled. As it should be. Whether he would ever admit it out loud or not, a part of him belonged to her.

Softly Dean began grazing his nails up and down Hannah's side, causing her to purr and curl further against him. She giggled when he found a particularly ticklish spot near her waist.

"Dean, stop!"

Instantly he had her pinned underneath him, smiling eyes beaming down at her. "Make me."

Dean may have had pinned, but he made the mistake of leaving one hand free, so Hannah reached between their bodies and began softly stroking his semi-hard cock. Slowly he began fucking her hand, his eyes never leaving hers, his breathing even, the smile on his face never changing. Hannah knew it was a false sense of control, but she relished it anyway, felt herself getting wetter as Dean's smooth skin slid between her fingers. It was amazing to her how even his breathing was sexy.

Suddenly Dean was off of her, pulling her down and off the bed, then bending her over and onto her belly, her feet resting firmly on the ground. Skillful fingers tested her wetness and circled her clit. A strong hand crashed down on her ass, making her cry out.

"Are you the one in control here, Hannah," Dean asked behind her.

Hannah's breath came out in short gasps, surprise, pain, and lust warring inside her body. At first she couldn't speak.

Another crash of his hand, then another. "Answer me, Hannah."

"No," she replied.

"That's right, you're not, Precious." Dean's hands crashed down upon her mercilessly, causing her to moan, to cry out. Was it pain or lust that was winning out? Her mind swirled. She couldn't tell.

As suddenly as the torture started, it stopped. Dean smoothed her ass cheeks rubbed them, kissed them gently, caressed the sting away. Gentle hands slid down her back, comforting her, and Hannah laid her head against the soft mattress.

Bending over Hannah so that he could whisper in her ear, Dean rubbed his now-hard cock at her entrance. "Do you want this," he asked.

"Yes," she whimpered, pressing back against him, trying to impale herself on him.

Dean clicked his tongue at her, pulling away. "Not until you control yourself."

Hannah stilled, forcing her body to stop moving, quieting her breathing. Every cell in her body screamed at her to move, to turn around, to take what belonged to her, but she didn't. She stood quietly, bent over the bed, waiting. The long months without him came flooding back. The seconds that passed felt like days as she remembered the long nights spent alone, wondering what city he was in, which diva he was fucking, whether he even remembered the girl he'd left back home. As she waited for him, she remembered the night she'd finally given up on him, finally convinced herself he wasn't coming home. There were no tears shed, just a hole that she'd patched up and set aside in her heart.

And now here she was, being ripped from her memories as Dean thrust into her, no warning, no preparation. He stayed like that, buried deep inside her, causing a burning ache, but offering no relief. Hannah wiggled her hips to try to ease her need, but she was rewarded with another harsh slap to the ass.

"Dean, please," she cried out in frustration. After going so long without him, so long thinking she'd never have him again, she was at her breaking point.

He leaned down so that his mouth was at her ear. "I'm sorry I've had to punish you, Precious. But you forgot who was in control. So tell me now, Hannah. Who's in control?"

Without hesitation Hannah replied, "You are."

Dean pulled out completely and slammed back into her. "That's right, baby. Tell me again. Who's in control?"

"You are, Dean."

Again, he gripped her hips and thrust harshly in and out, once, then stilled.

Dean chuckled darkly. "You're learning. One more time. Who controls you, Hannah?"

"Fuck, Dean. You do. You control me."

Dean laughed and thrust.

"Again."

"You do."

"Again."

"Fuck."

Dean's pace was brutal, but Hannah met him thrust for thrust. He pushed her completely onto the bed, face down, ass up, and climbed on top of her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She hadn't been with anyone since Dean had left, and she would be sore tomorrow, be Hannah didn't care. This was too good.

With one hand he reached under her and found her clit, and the other he wrapped around her throat.  
"You're mine," he snarled in her ear.

Hannah nodded as his thrusts became quicker. Those words sent a thrill through her, straight to her clit.

"Mine," Dean chanted again, beginning to lose himself in her, his thrusts now rough and sloppy.

Hannah rocked her hips back against him, so close to cumming. Dean leaned down and locked his teeth over her neck and growled, and fuck, she broke apart, crying out his name, her whole body shaking. She pulled his orgasm from him, and as he lay on top of her, she felt him lick her neck and whisper softly, "mine."

As Hannah's breathing began to return to normal, she became aware of Dean's heartbeat. The sound was comforting to her, and as he pulled her into his side, she snuggled deeper into his chest, letting his rhythm pull her into sleep like a lullaby. Before she drifted off, one question resonated through her mind.

"Dean," she whispered into the darkness. "Why'd you come back?"

He stroked her hair and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Because, Han. You're precious to me."


End file.
